The long summer days were withering away, and we wouldn't let them go unimportant. Each day we tried to do something, before we left for our final year of Hogwart's. The month of August was spent by the lake near the Burrow. We'd swim, or talk or climb the trees. They were glorious and care-free and I'd give anything to have those days back.
Hermione read her books, sitting under the willow tree. A smile was always playing on her face, growing with every chapter she read. Ron tried to get her to swim, or climb the trees, but she would just laugh and tell him that she wasn't a swimmer, and was afraid of heights. Everyday he asked her, and everyday she'd say no. Ron would shrug it off and went back into the lake. He would swim- seventeen years in the lake had done him good. He would sometimes climb the willow tree, and would use the long branches as a makeshift vine, swinging into the lake. Hermione always scolded him afterwards, warning him that the vine could snap, and he'd fall to his death and she would laugh, and remind everyone that she told him not too and she was right. Ron narrowed his eyes, and out of spite he would climb it again, and one time the vine did snap. He broke his ankle, but he certainly didn't die, and he reminded Hermione of this for days afterwards.
Ginny would lay on her back and watch the clouds, every day. She wore these long, flowing skirts that hung around her knees and when she spun around it would fly up and she would laugh, and grin. Behind her right ear was always a flower, always a daisy, always one petal short. And Ginny's hair was always in french braids, sometimes plaited with ribbons. At night when she took the braids out, her hair would form gentle waves that would fade after and hour or two. Hermione would braid her hair- Ginny couldn't do it herself. We'd sit in the girl's room in the morning, talking and laughing, watching Hermione braid. Sometimes she pulled too hard, and Ginny would wince, and I would laugh, and Hermione would scowl. Whenever Hermione was done, Ginny would pull out a mirror and smile at the finished product, pushing her fingers between the plaits and giggling, thanking Hermione. I would smile, because Ginny made me smile.
It was that summer I realized that dear Ginny Weasley was not Ron's younger sister anymore. She had grown-yes, I've noticed. Her too small bathing suit gave it away. Her honey brown eyes would be bright with excitement , and her ginger hair would be hot from the sun. She would lay on her back and looks at the heavens, and I joined her once.
" That cloud looks like a flower," She had said. I looked at the cloud she was pointing at. It look more like...actually, it didn't look like anything to me. I told her this, and she just laughed.
" You have no imagination, Potter." We were silent then, until she noticed a cloud that looked like a rabbit. I told her she was crazy. She replied, saying that I was crazy about her. Ginny then looked at me and giggled, shaking her head and laughing some more. I could feel my face heat up though I'm sure she didn't notice. That was the last time I would lie with her.
The days were lazy and useless and I hated to see them end, because soon September 1st rolled in, and the summer was over. This was our last year of Hogwart's, and all I could think about was Ginevra Weasley, with her french plaits and long skirts and innocent imagination.